


N42.9 or, Disorder of Prostate - Unspecified

by LydiaLovestruck



Series: ICD-10 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Bottom Steve Rogers, Daddy Kink, Dom Bucky Barnes, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Not Canon Compliant, POV First Person, Praise Kink, Pre-Negotiated Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Sounding, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Unethical Medicine, Unreliable Narrator, unethical medical personnel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaLovestruck/pseuds/LydiaLovestruck
Summary: Dr. Schmidt makes a house call. Daddy Bucky says Stevie's been having too many problems with control.See the notes at the end if you might be squeamish about certain medical devices or procedures that might be used in this fic or want some minor spoilers.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/OMC
Series: ICD-10 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939336
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. The Scene

Dave watched his Uber driver pull back out onto the quiet street. This area of Brooklyn was known for its wealthier, more reclusive, often more famous residents. It wasn’t an area Dave ever thought he’d end up in himself, but here he was. The brownstone he actually needed was two doors down from the address he’d given Uber. As he pulled his wheeled case down the sidewalk, he reviewed his notes on his cellphone.

For this scenario, he was again Dr. Schmidt, a specialist in male sexual health. He had the requested equipment in his case and a clean lab coat over his arm. Over his shoulder was an overnight bag with his mundane gear. He had already read, re-read and made suggestions on the notes that Mr. Barnes had sent him a week earlier. He was as prepared as he could be.

Arriving at the brownstone, he stepped through the front gate into the tiny courtyard and carried his bags up the single flight of stairs to the first floor. There was a separate entrance to the garden level below, but the windows there were dark. The only lights shone through the sheer curtains of the windows to his left and a carriage lamp high above him illuminating the front stoop. He spied a tiny camera in the corner in addition to the obvious Ring security system doorbell. He smiled and pressed the button.

A moment later, he heard the door unlock and then his patient opened the door. “Dr. Schmidt!” he said, nodding respectfully. He stepped aside and gestured to Dave. “Please come right in. May I take your things for you?”

“Yes,” he responded in a cool manner. His patient, ‘Stevie,’ was dressed in a navy and maroon prep school outfit. He wore long pants, a white collared shirt, tie, and a monogrammed jacket. As Dave walked past him, he saw he was even wearing a beanie cap. Dave stopped just past the entryway, in a long hallway broken up by doors and a set of stairs that led up and down. Stevie easily handled the bags, pulling them inside and then locking the front door again.

“This way, please, Doctor,” he said, bowing his head and leading toward a set of double doors. He pulled on one side and both doors slid open to reveal a nicely appointed formal living room. Mr. Barnes stood up from his club chair with a smile.

“Dr. Schmidt!” Barnes reached out to shake his hand. “Right on time. Thank you so much for coming out to see Stevie.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I must say, this is a beautiful neighborhood. Have you lived here long?”

“Almost two years,” Barnes said. “Have a seat. We’ll talk first.”

The townhouse had clearly been renovated a few times. The lines were clean, the room spacious and, judging from the view into the dining room beyond, quite elegantly decorated. Everything was in white and blue with accents of reds and silver. But then, Dave supposed, gay men did tend to decorate well. Barnes gestured him to a seat on the deep blue couch and offered him a drink.

“I never drink alcohol while in a scene,” he said, holding up two fingers as a signal, so Barnes explained he was offering fruit juice, soda or water. Dave agreed to fruit juice.

“I would never allow anyone who was impaired within ten meters of my Stevie,” Barnes said, flashing the same two-fingered gesture to indicate he was speaking outside the scene. “Steve, sure. Steve can handle anything. But Stevie? No.” He dropped his hand and said, more loudly, “Stevie, get Dr. Schmidt a glass of the pear-apple juice. Ice?” he asked the doctor, who nodded. “With ice.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Stevie said. He bowed a little and then busied himself at a drinks cart. A moment later, he handed a tall glass of pale juice to the doctor.

“My apologies,” Dave said to Barnes, accepting the glass of fruit juice and flashing the two fingers again, “I assumed you were 24/7.”

Barnes sat down across from him. “Yes and no,” he said, sipping his own glass. It looked like simple sparkling water. He waved at Stevie, who left the room, sliding the doors shut as he left. “We’ve been doing this a long time. Kind of have our own rhythm going. I never wanted a 24/7 kind of thing. I wanted someone I could dominate, sure, someone I could play with. But I also wanted someone who could be my equal, my partner in every sense, when that needed to happen. I guess I’d say it’s more of a 22/6 kind of thing.” Barnes laughed. “The power differential between us is more of a sliding scale, if that makes sense.”

The pear-apple juice was sweet and refreshing. “It does,” he said. “I’ve been privy to a lot of different kinds of people in this life. My parents were 24/7, really, though I never understood it until I came home from college and my Intro to Human Sexuality course suddenly made a whole lot more sense.”

Barnes stared at him. “That seems… unsettling.”

He shrugged. “That whole year explained a lot to me, actually. I’m aromantic, you know. I like sex. I just don’t feel any particular emotional pull towards people. It helps with this sort of thing.” He waved a hand.

“I guess it would.” Barnes glanced at the doorway. “Steve just went to take your bag upstairs. You’re in the guest room on the fourth floor. He’s probably back by now. Did you bring a joke or something? We should laugh.”

“My scene partner’s kid told me this one last Saturday. Today, my son asked ‘can I have a bookmark?’ and I burst into tears. Eleven years old and he still doesn’t know my name is Brian.”

Barnes laughed and groaned. “Oh, that’s bad. Okay. How do you make a lemon drop?”

“How?”

“Just let it fall.”

They exchanged ‘dad’ jokes for a few more minutes, each joke getting worse but, for some reason, making them laugh more. Then Barnes stood up. He pointed out the bathroom. Dave freshened up before slipping on the lab coat and tucking his stethoscope into his pocket. He checked all his other pockets to be sure he had everything where it should be before coming back out to the front room. Barnes stood there with Stevie, a hand on his shoulder.

“You be good for the doctor now, you hear? I don’t want to have to call him out again for this,” Barnes said, his manner paternal.

“Yes, Daddy,” Stevie said softly. “Thank you for arranging this for me.”

“You’ll thank me for it later.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“So,” Dr. Schmidt began. “What seems to be the trouble, young man?”

Stevie took a deep breath, looked at his daddy, then directly at Dr. Schmidt and said, his voice small and trembling, “My clitty gets so hard sometimes that I can’t control it and I come. I’m not supposed to come without Daddy’s permission, but I can’t always stop myself.” He dropped his head. “I’ve been bad a lot lately. Daddy thinks there’s something wrong with me, you know, down there.”

“Now, now, Stevie,” Schmidt said sternly, “this is a serious medical issue you’re describing. Don’t be vague and use terms like ‘down there.’ Do you mean your knees? Your feet? Be specific. I’m a professional. This isn’t for prurient purposes.”

“Yes, sir, doctor, sir,” Stevie said, nodding his head. “I’m sorry, Dr. Schmidt. Daddy thinks there might be something wrong with either my boy-clit or my love-button.” He glanced nervously at Barnes.

Schmidt nodded. “Or purely a matter of your own self-control. Yes, I see.” He turned to Barnes. “I can help you, of course, but first I will need a thorough exam and a demonstration of the problem so that I can accurately diagnose the issue and prescribe treatment.”

“Of course, doctor,” Barnes said. “Whatever it takes, whatever the cost. I just want Stevie to be well.”

“Absolutely my goal, too.” Schmidt glanced around the room. “Shall I examine him here or is there a more suitable area?”

Barnes grinned. “Come with me.”

**

Daddy led the doctor and me toward the elevator. I dragged the doctor’s equipment case along beside me, the literal instruments of my doom. It was so embarrassing to have to tell the doctor I couldn’t control my own body. It made me feel like such a child. All Daddy wanted was a big boy who could come on command, not one who got all overwhelmed and came at the wrong time. ‘Even if it hurts, even if you’re desperate, Stevie,’ Daddy had said more than once, ‘I want you to control yourself.’

Once inside the elevator, I pulled the cage door closed and pressed the button marked **-2**. The car dropped two floors and then a pleasant little _ding_ sound accompanied arrival at the second basement level. I pushed open the cage and let Daddy and the doctor step out first.

I followed but stayed in the taped-out area on the floor. It was about two feet across and the width of the elevator doors. There, I automatically began removing my beanie, shoes and the rest of my uniform, even the bright pink jock strap I pretended to hate wearing. I hung up all my clothes on the valet rack there. My view of the rest of the room was blocked by a four-panel dressing screen, but I could hear Daddy and the doctor discussing the exam table I had set up that afternoon.

I was excited about the table because I had helped Daddy pick it out of the catalogue. When it had arrived, I had taken it downstairs and assembled it while Daddy watched. He inspected my work by putting me onto it and – that was a memory I could enjoy later. I took a deep breath and willed my erection to settle down. I couldn’t help getting hard down here. It was Pavlovian. But I needed to slow down. Schmidt was going to take as long as he was going to take and I needed to just give myself up to whatever he and Daddy wanted for me.

I took another deep breath and stepped around the screen into the dungeon.

Daddy and Dr. Schmidt were standing on the other side of the examination table. Though it was on wheels, it had been locked into place on the central cement portion of the floor. Six spots shone down from the ceiling onto the area we’d chosen. It was a harsh white light, suitable for a medical examination. I wouldn’t be able to hide in it.

I stepped forward into the lighted area, drawing their attention.

“Good boy, Stevie,” Daddy said softly. “Come on now and do whatever the doctor tells you.”

I nodded and looked to Dr. Schmidt. “I’m ready for my exam now, doctor.”

Schmidt beckoned me closer, then held up a hand to stop me. He stepped out from behind the table and stood in front of me. I saw he was holding a tablet computer. He tapped a few buttons and then held up the tablet to me. “Hold still,” he said. “I’m making a scan of your body.” He stared at the image on his screen, then moved to stand behind me. “Keep holding still,” he said.

I heard more tapping. Daddy looked almost bored.

“Bend forward, please,” Schmidt said.

I bent to a ninety-degree angle.

“No, no,” Schmidt said. “All the way forward. Forehead to your knees.”

I touched my forehead to my knees.

“Better,” Schmidt said. “Now, if you could be so kind as to spread your buttocks to show me your hole. I need images of that, too.”

I had to move my feet slightly to maintain my balance, but I stretched my arms up and back, grabbed hold of my cheeks and spread them as wide as I could. My face flamed both from the position and the humiliation of the pose.

“Hm,” Schmidt said. He moved away, but I kept spreading my cheeks. “Oh, yes, silly boy, you can release yourself now. Stand up.”

I felt slightly woozy from the headrush, but that faded quickly.

“I’ll need a picture of the clitty, too,” Dr. Schmidt said. He faced me. “Show it to me.”

A little confused, I grabbed my boy-clit in my hand and held it out.

“No, no, silly boy,” Dr. Schmidt said. “I don’t need a picture of your hand. One finger should do it. Keep your hand out of the way as much as possible.”

I lifted my boy-clit with one finger just beneath the tip. It became easier to do this because I was getting hard. Schmidt positioned his tablet a few inches away and took a picture. I caught a glimpse of a sort of x-ray image of my little clitty, outlined in green on a black background.

“No, no,” Dr. Schmidt said, dissatisfied. “Too much of your body got into that shot. Push your clit out further. Get it as far away from you as possible. This can’t be that difficult. Squat if you must.”

I shifted my feet further apart. My thighs flexed as I thrust my hips forward, one finger still under the tip of my clitty, my right hand going back to cup my buttock for balance. I felt my glutes, tight beneath the skin. The doctor leaned in with his tablet and took another picture.

“Much better. Stay like that,” he said, still tapping away at his tablet. “Now lift your clit so I can get a good image of your sac.”

I used two fingers to lift my clitty up. My thighs were starting to feel the strain of my position. I glanced at Daddy. He was doing something on his cell phone.

“Good enough,” Schmidt said. He turned away and started tapping on his tablet, presumably inputting data or making notes. I remained as I was, having not been given permission to shift out of position. I noticed I was getting harder. I wondered what I looked like. Would I get to see these pictures? Would I look silly or would I look desperate to be touched, handled, fondled? Would the picture of my stretched-open hole make me look eager for fucking?

No, stop it, I told myself. This is a doctor. This is all for medical purposes. You are being very slutty right now, Stevie! You should beg forgiveness. Maybe they’ll punish you for your wayward thoughts.

“Oh, for… you can stand up,” Schmidt said with more than a touch of exasperation in his voice. “Honestly,” he murmured, shaking his head. He held the tablet out to Daddy, who now looked interested. “You see this here?”

Daddy pursed his lips. “Should it be like that?”

“Probably not,” Schmidt said. “It’s a sign of a disobedient boy. That doesn’t mean the boy is doomed to disobedience, of course, just that they have to work harder at obedience. He may require a firmer hand, or even external controls. Further examination can tell us.”

“I really appreciate this, Dr. Schmidt,” Daddy said. “I’ve been trying everything I know how to do to get Stevie to obey, but he’s so willful.” Daddy shook his head. He looked sad. I wanted to go to my knees and press my face against his crotch, kiss his feet, even stretch out my body and let him physically, literally, walk across me, anything to show him I was his to command. Every inch of me belonged to him. Every inch of the body I inhabited and took care of belonged to him.

“All right,” Schmidt said. He looked like he’d come to a decision. “Get on up here, Stevie,” he said to me. “Let’s get a closer view of what’s going on.”

The table had been put in a reclining position. I set my ass on the cushioned leather seat and rested against the slanted back. My arms fell naturally into position along the armrests and my legs fit onto their pads as well. The table had been completely configured to my dimensions, so my feet fit perfectly against the little footrests. I leaned my head on a foam support pillow.

“Hm,” Schmidt said. I glanced at him. He was looking at my body with a troubled expression. “Since he’s prone to disobedience, can we restrain him in some way on this exam table? Just to make this part simpler.”

“Of course,” Daddy said. Within moments, he had wrapped leather straps across my chest, my arms, my thighs and ankles. Last, he leaned over and smiled at me. “Open up, Stevie,” he said, and then fit a gag into my mouth, tying it around my head and then securing the back of it to the table. This was a soft gag, one I could bite and worry between my teeth without fear of tearing it. It was small and I could easily breathe around it. It was a symbolic gag, a message that I was to generally keep quiet, but some sounds would be acceptable.

Then Daddy reached underneath the table and turned one of the hand cranks. The leg supports began separating, pulling my thighs apart. The part where my butt cheeks rested was split and I could feel the warm air of the room on my exposed hole. Daddy said something to Dr. Schmidt. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t need to.

A moment later, the table tilted back just enough and the flaps under my butt cheeks dropped to be tucked away. I was supported by my legs and the tilted backrest. My genitals were completely exposed, hanging in between my thighs, dangling in the air.

Schmidt rolled over a leather stool. Daddy sat in a comfortable chair he’d positioned past my feet. It was a tall chair and he could see all of me over Schmidt’s head. He crossed his legs and sipped at a drink he’d gotten from somewhere. Had I made that for him earlier? I couldn’t remember. Events were beginning to blur. I looked down my body. Schmidt’s face was between my thighs. He was staring at my clit and it looked like my clit was staring back.

Schmidt reached into his open medical case. I saw now that it was like an old-fashioned steamer trunk in that it had drawers and storage spaces inside it. Schmidt pulled out a piece of headgear, a strap that fit around his head with a reflective silver disk on the front facing me. Then he set up a square magnifying glass on a stand. He positioned it right in front of my clit and then, without saying anything, without any warning at all, reached around and began to pull open my clit and stare into the tiny hole on the tip.

“Hmm,” Schmidt said. “I see, I see.”

Incredibly, amazingly, I felt air on the inside of my clitty as he manipulated the little hole, pulling it open, staring inside it. I groaned. I felt myself taking deeper, faster breaths. I looked up at Daddy who had an intrigued expression on his face as he stared over the doctor’s shoulder.

“What is it, Dr. Schmidt? What do you see?”

“This area is loose,” Schmidt said. “He has clearly come a great many times. Perhaps more than he should have. It has become harder for him to control himself because his body is so used to letting it happen. It’s like water through a crack in a rock,” he went on, still manipulating my little hole. “You get a little water coming through and you think, ‘neat, a little spring is forming.’ But then the little trickle of water wears away more of the rock and eventually, and of course, this is over thousands and thousands of years, eventually you get a waterfall, a stream, a river, the Grand Canyon. It’s a bitch to stop up the Colorado River, but the Hoover Dam manages. Of course, it cost millions of dollars and lots of good men died building it, but there you go.” He glanced over his shoulder at Daddy. “You want to nip this in the bud. Thank goodness you called me in. Let’s hope it was in time.”

“Indeed,” Daddy said, sitting back in his chair.

I felt Daddy staring at my body. I wanted him to remember why he liked looking at it, so I tightened my abs and flexed my biceps. I tightened my pectorals, too, and knew my tits were waking up.

Schmidt had applied lube to his hands. I felt them slip around the shaft of my boy-clit, turning it to one side or the other, holding it up into the air and then pushing it down painfully, bending it, touching the tip of the clit back and around my body to my pussy. I wanted to move, but I was trapped. I wanted to jump away from his hands. I wanted to show him how turned on I was becoming. I wanted to hide my reaction. I wanted to shoot off in his hands.

All I could do was lift my head to see him, that intensely interested expression on his face as he manipulated my boy-clit and then let it spring up and out of his way. He began tugging on my sac, kneading the balls in it.

“Have you ever considered piercing the sac?” Dr. Schmidt asked in an idle tone.

“I have,” Daddy said.

This was a surprise to me.

“I’ve thought it would look beautiful with a ruby stud,” Daddy went on, “about the size of a dime, maybe, right in the center. What do you think?”

“It can be done,” Schmidt replied, pinching my sac right where Daddy was talking about. “It may impede your boy’s orgasm, but that may not be a concern of yours.”

“It’s not,” Daddy said. “I’m not sure how invested I am anymore in him coming ever again.”

“But you’d milk the prostate,” Schmidt said. “For his health, if nothing else.”

“Oh, yes,” Daddy agreed. “But I might have him do it himself. With a machine or something. It’d be cheaper than hiring a nurse to come in every week.”

Schmidt looked curious. “You wouldn’t do it yourself?”

Daddy chuckled darkly. “I’m not opposed to fucking him until it leaks out of him, but that’s not my main goal. My main goal is my own pleasure.”

Schmidt nodded. “That’s as it should be.”

I had to agree. I loved Daddy so much. He deserved everything, every happiness. If me never having an orgasm again meant he’d be even a little happier, then I was proud to do it. Or not do it. Besides, Daddy would teach me to empty my balls myself, with a machine. That seemed sensible. Tidy, even. I could well imagine myself on my knees, inserting a wand into my boy-pussy, flipping a switch and feeling the pressure build until I was pouring out into a collection bottle. When I was done, I would record the amount in a spreadsheet then discard the come down the drain. It could be done in combination with a thorough enema. I could present myself to my Daddy completely emptied out. He could fuck me and fuck me to his heart’s content and I would be able to feel every moment of pleasure from it that I could – and I wouldn’t come and ruin it for my Daddy.

It sounded like bliss.

“But I also like the way he squirms and tightens down on my cock when he comes, so I’m not completely sold on the idea,” Daddy went on. “A ring, maybe, that I could tie to things.”

Schmidt nodded. “I’ve seen a few like that. Once, at an event in Texas, I saw a half-dozen slaves with that modification all tied up by their sac-rings to a hitching post.”

“Texas, hm?”

Schmidt started taking down the magnifying glass apparatus. “I was there for about two weeks a few years ago. I acted as the vet for this particular event,” he explained. “They had indoor Ponyboy races. Ponyboys from all over the country and even Canada were there to compete. They also had bull fighting, bronco busting, roping. It was a real rodeo, for all that there were no horses or cattle involved.”

“Bronco busting? What was that like?”

“Oh, that was fun,” Schmidt said, turning halfway around on his stool. “Basically, it was a competition to see how fast a Master could make an unfamiliar slave boy assume a specific pose upon spoken command. The catch was, the Masters could only speak a language that the slave boys didn’t know, and the positions were really odd. Like yoga poses but ridiculous-looking. It got pretty tense.”

“They only have those in Texas?”

“Through the Southwest, yeah,” Schmidt said. He began opening drawers in his medical case, pulling out some items, setting others aside. “I hear that there’s one in Mexico run by one of the cartels that gets bloody. I was asked if I wanted to join the medical team for that one. I declined.”

Daddy nodded. “But bull fighting. That’s the bulls fighting each other, I assume.”

“Oh, yes. The slaves are naked, oiled up, and the only ornamentation is a ribbon tied to their cock ring. The goal is to remove the ribbon on the ring. Winner gets to fuck the loser for the remainder of the round, so if they take four minutes to get the ribbon off, they only get one minute to fuck. It’s an incentive to be quick and brutal.”

“Ah. They’re all slaves, then,” Daddy said. “Stevie’s not a slave.”

“Oh, no! I would never suggest Stevie _participate_ ,” Schmidt said. “He’s much too fragile for that, too soft. I can tell he just wants to please you.”

I lifted my head to look. Daddy was smiling at me. My heart pounded harder in my chest. I felt so proud! But if Daddy wanted me to participate in something like that, I would do it. I would find a way.

Then Schmidt slipped a long, cylindrical object into my boy-pussy and asked about tilting the table even further. Daddy told him where the control was and a few moments later, I was tilted ass-up, to about 80 or 85 degrees inclination. My weight was mostly resting now on my shoulders and what I could balance using my calves. I gripped the small leather-wrapped bar at the end of each armrest.

“There we go,” Schmidt cooed. He patted my left butt cheek, then spread my cheeks further apart. He was standing now and peering between my thighs at my face. “Good boy,” he said, and then winked. I could barely see Daddy when Schmidt moved to one side or the other. When Schmidt was ready to work on me, however, I only saw Schmidt and that damned reflective disk. It was just him and me and I was strapped down ready to take whatever he was going to give me.

“Let’s get some readings, shall we?” Schmidt said. He flicked a switch on the thing inside me and it warmed up. There was a thin cord leading from it to some device in Schmidt’s hand. He adjusted something, and the device began to vibrate. It was rubbing directly against my love button and I groaned desperately. I was getting so much harder. My clitty was pointing at my face. All the touching and manipulation from the doctor was making it difficult not to react. But if I came, I’d come on my own face and that was something I could only do if Daddy specifically told me to do it.

“And now let’s try expansion,” Schmidt said, flicking another switch. The device got larger inside me, almost as large as Daddy’s cock.

I protested with a muffled howl.

Schmidt slapped my butt hard. “Stop that, Stevie! You need to be open wider so I have room to work.”

I nodded my head as best I could. It was so large inside me. I felt so opened up, so exposed. I had no secrets.

The vibration slowed and the expansion stopped. “There we go,” Schmidt said. “Now I can see better. Did you want to take a look, too, Mr. Barnes?”

“Why not?” Daddy hopped off his tall chair and stood next to Schmidt. He didn’t look at my face, but put his one hand on my thigh and gently pushed it to one side, opening me up further, stretching my legs apart more.

“See the inner walls?” Schmidt said. “See the musculature?”

“I do,” Daddy said. “So that’s where my cock goes. That’s the inside of my boy.”

“It would appear to be a healthy hole,” Schmidt said. “I see no lesions, no scrapes or bruising. No tears. You’ve been taking good care of this hole, Mr. Barnes. You’re to be commended.”

Daddy smiled. “Thank you. I don’t like putting my cock inside damaged holes, do I, Stevie?” He peered over my spread thigh. I shook my head. My eyes were wet. “That’s right,” Daddy said. “I don’t.”

“I can measure the strength of his inner muscles,” Schmidt said. “It’s standard and only takes a few minutes. Unless you object?”

“Not at all,” Daddy said, stepping back.

“Excellent. We can take care of it in a bit.”

The device inside me expanded further, stretching me wider than even Daddy did with his punishment dildo. Then Schmidt lifted a long, wide-bore needle attached to a large reservoir of full clear liquid. Schmidt aimed the needle and inserted it inside me through the device which was stretching my hole. I didn’t know anymore how long the device was. Was the needle going to stick _me_? Was Dr. Schmidt going to inject me? Impossibly, I got harder at the thought. I was being split open, widened as wide as I had ever been before, wide enough for a doctor to easily slide medical devices inside me in the effort to treat me, to make adjustments, enhancements, improve me for my Daddy’s pleasure.

I groaned and tried not to twist my hips. I tried not to arch my back. I didn’t want to move and get injected by accident or in the wrong place. I felt my tits get heavy. I lifted my head. Was Dr. Schmidt depressing the injector? Was he depositing the clear liquid inside me? What was it? What would it do to me?

“There we go,” Schmidt said, withdrawing the empty syringe. “We’ll give that a moment or two to get absorbed and take effect.” He patted my ass and then pressed a button on the device controller. It began to close up. It was almost disappearing inside me. I felt certain it was slipping further in. I wanted it to expand again. I wanted it to fuck me, but Schmidt withdrew the device and turned away. I heard him and Daddy talking, but I couldn’t understand their words. I was in a daze.

The lights were burning above so I couldn’t look up at the ceiling. I was still almost upside-down. All I could see of the rest of the room was darkness. Everything was darkness but for where Daddy and Dr. Schmidt were standing. They were full of light. I wanted the light.

Then I felt Schmidt patting my hole. I looked up my body and saw him rubbing my hole with his fingertips. He grinned when he saw me looking at him. “Feeling better now, hm?”

What did he give me?

He easily slid three fingers inside me. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Pliable and willing. Eager, even.”

I groaned again. I wanted things. _So many things_. I wanted to be penetrated. I wanted to be crushed beneath someone’s boot. I wanted to be made to crawl, to lift my ass into the air, to be fucked by an unyielding object, to drag my nipples across the floor, to exemplify my surrender, to revel in my degradation, to _submit_ to a dominant man – to my Daddy. I wanted my Daddy.

I was so hard.

“It’s taking effect,” Dr. Schmidt said. “I think it’s absorbed fully. Now to test the strength of his inner muscles. This will give you some indication of the level of pleasure you are actually receiving from you boy.”

“Excellent,” Daddy said. “I had wondered if I was getting the fullest use out of him.”

Schmidt held up a black tube. Was it another dildo? Was it a wand? It wasn’t thick, but it was definitely long. He held the tube along my inner thigh. It ran from my knee almost to my groin. He caught my eye and smiled gleefully. “I do enjoy this part,” he said. “It’s a fun test.”

The tip of this tube was pointed and this part he laid on the edge of my hole. Without ceremony, he shoved the tip into me and kept on feeding the length past the rim, through the hole, down inside me. I was certain I could feel it snake and squirm through my abdomen, meeting no resistance. I cried out past the gag in my mouth. Schmidt just tut-tutted at me and shook his head.

When he was through, only about an inch stuck out. Schmidt tapped my ass. “Squeeze now, Stevie. Be a good boy.”

Squeeze what, I wondered? How?

Schmidt frowned. “Are you even trying?”

“Come on, Stevie,” Daddy said. He looked disappointed. “Don’t just sit there. This is for my benefit, you know.” He shook his head at me.

I squeezed my ass, my abdomen, I bore down as much as I could. It wasn’t easy since I was almost upside-down, but I thought I was doing something.

“That barely registered,” Schmidt said, looking at his tablet. “I expect a neophyte would at least move the dial. But he does nothing.”

I grit my teeth and tried again. I tried harder. This was for Daddy, to measure how well my ass, my hole, pleased my Daddy. It had to be the best. I had to be the best! I tightened up so much, my hips squirmed side to side. I grunted with the effort. My toes even curled.

“Hm, better,” Schmidt said. “See how long you can keep that up. Maybe you can impress with your endurance.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Daddy said. “My boy’s not really known for his stamina.”

I tightened up every muscle I could from my jaw to my toes. I squirmed and twisted. Sweat slicked my body. Tears leaked from my eyes. I cried out with the effort but still I kept on. I was holding my breath with the effort, but I could hold my breath a long time. Upside-down, with all the exertion, all the effort and strain, though? I don’t know how long it was, but I eventually did have to stop.

“Hm,” Schmidt said, tapping away on his tablet. “That’ll do, I suppose.”

Daddy twisted his lips into an attractively dismayed moue. “I suppose.”

“There are places online where you can input his scores, do searches for boys with better ones. They are out there,” Schmidt said. “You can always trade up.”

Daddy took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess. But he’s what I got now, so I guess I’ll work with what I have.”

Schmidt smiled at him. “You are a rare one, aren’t you, Mr. Barnes?”

“Thank you, Dr. Schmidt.” Daddy looked well-pleased.

He should always have that look. I wanted to be the one causing Daddy to look that way, but I guess as long as someone was, it was okay. I could always practice tightening my hole, making myself into a better, more satisfying boy to fuck.

The table was moving again. I was level once more. Daddy unstrapped me. I felt woozy. He looked down at me, contemplative. “How long does this drug you gave him last?”

“With this method of absorption,” Dr. Schmidt said, “Submisoral can last in the bloodstream for up to six hours. We’ll have plenty of time to conduct a thorough examination. If Stevie fails to perform while under the influence of Submisoral, then it is a physical issue. If he performs perfectly, then it is a matter of external control. I can obviously refer you to specialists.”

“I have some in mind, myself,” Daddy said. “His little clitty would look lovely stopped up with a jeweled sound, or wrapped in a snug silver corkscrew that also clutched his sac in a tight grip. I have ideas.” He grinned and rubbed my tummy. He’d freed me completely from the restraints and I hadn’t moved a muscle. I felt worn-out. Exhausted. All the fight had left me. The Submisoral must be working.

My head was still tethered to the table by my gag. I had it wedged between my teeth with my exertions and it was soaked with saliva. I chewed reflexively and swallowed. I wanted to be sucking on Daddy’s cock. Maybe if I begged enough, he’d give me the cock-shaped gag instead.

Daddy smiled down at me as if he could read my thoughts. He laid a hand on my brow, then brushed his fingers through my hair. “You’re being so good right now, Stevie,” he said quietly, just to me. “Such a good boy.”

He left his palm on the top of my head and stroked the side of my face with his other hand. I was caught between his massive palms. He could crush my skull if he wanted to, but he cradled my cheek instead. He ran his thumb along my lip, pulled my jaw down – the hinges ached – and then stroked my throat. His thumb went right over my adam’s apple. I swallowed and watched amusement flicker in his eyes, so dark with dominance and delight. Then he ran his hand across my chest. I felt my breath come quicker. I lifted my chest into his hand as he cupped my tit.

I moaned for him.

Daddy slid his hand to my tummy and gave me a gentle pat there. I felt my muscles twitch and try to tighten up. He looked at my abs. He moved both hands down my body now, from the top of my head to my abdomen and then my thighs, still spread wide, still resting on the table even though I was no longer restrained. My ass still hung free in the air. I was balanced by the cushioned edge of the table and my calves and feet. Anything anyone wanted to do to my body, they could do as they pleased. I didn’t have the strength or the will to resist.

Dr. Schmidt was between my legs again on his rolling stool. When I looked down my body at him, the reflective disk on his headgear shone at me, blinding me. It made him almost invisible to me. Then I felt him, three fingers inside me all of a sudden, searching and stretching me wider.

“I have located the gland,” Dr. Schmidt said. “Now, you say he can’t control his clitty and comes without permission. It could be his love-button is too sensitive. It could be his clitty is too wide. Let’s measure the clitty-hole first.”

Daddy’s hands left my body. I looked up at him and saw him staring at the object in Dr. Schmidt’s hands. It was a sound. It looked to be made of silver and it had a flat disk at the top, some kind of dial, maybe. Schmidt took my clitty firmly in one hand and positioned the sound at the wet tip. With a single sure movement, he slipped the sound inside me.

I wanted to scream. This wasn’t something Daddy and I did very often but on special occasions. I loved the feeling of a needle-like sound inside me, the pressure on the inside of my clit instead of around it. I loved that it took Daddy’s entire focus, that it required his concentration, his devotion. It was something he enjoyed. He was enjoying it now.

He had that predator look in his eyes. His brow was almost hooded, like a hawk, or a snake about to strike. He was leaning over my thigh, leaning in close to the sound as Schmidt pulled it out of me and dropped it back into me several times.

“We need to make sure it’s in all the way,” he said as he played with the sound a few more times. “There we go. Now to take the reading.” He tapped on the dial.

I screamed into the gag. The pressure inside me, the focus on my boy-clit, the tapping that sent vibrations through me – all that sensation had to be let out somehow.

“Shh, shh, Stevie,” Daddy said. “Be good for the doctor.” He rubbed my tummy and gave me a little pat as I settled myself down. “Well, doctor? What do you find?”

Schmidt tapped away at his tablet computer. “It’s as I thought. The hole is a little wider than is preferable for total control. I’ll leave this in,” he said, tapping the sound once more. I shuddered as I tried to be good for the doctor. “We’ll see if the hole expands or if he’s able to tighten up around it.”

Daddy looked interested at that. “Do you think you could do that, Stevie? Tighten up your cute little clitty?” He looked into my eyes. He was definitely eager for me to accomplish this task, but I didn’t even know how to start. Nevertheless, I tried to focus on the muscles in my abdomen, deep in my groin. Was it working? Did I even have muscles there? I was so tired, but I’d managed before.

“I can see you’re trying, Stevie,” Daddy said, leaning closer to my face. “I can see the desperation in your eyes.” He kissed my brow, pressing his lips to my skin and letting them linger there. Then I felt his breath on my ear as he whispered, “this is so fucking hot. I love you so much right now. You’re perfect.” He stroked my cheek, my parted lips, and then wrenched the gag out of my mouth.

“Daddy, Daddy,” I panted, turning my head to find him holding a water bottle, a straw poking out. I took a few sips, grateful for the consideration. “Thank you, Daddy,” I said. I tried to show my complete adoration for him just with my eyes.

“Here we go now,” Schmidt said, reminding me of my task. “Hm. Maybe he could do some exercises.” He shrugged, then pulled out the sound. “Let’s focus on his love-button next, shall we?”

“Yes, Dr. Schmidt,” Daddy said. “I think maybe he’s just too sensitive there.”

“Well,” Schmidt said, turning to his medical case. I heard drawers open and slide shut and the clink of medical equipment as he mused, “you could elect to have his prostate removed, but I don’t recommend that except in extreme cases or for the treatment of disease. Prostate stimulation is an excellent reward.”

“Oh, no,” Daddy said. “I would never do that. I prefer Stevie intact as much as possible.” He sounded genuine, and I appreciated his sentiment. “I was thinking some kind of patch, maybe, or a cream that might numb the area?”

“Certainly,” Schmidt said. “There are several numbing creams it would be safe enough to apply internally in this manner. Just spread it around and into his hole, covering the area. You can use an applicator, of course, as you prefer. Then I would thoroughly wash the applicator, or your hands if you used your fingers. If you are going to fuck him yourself, be absolutely certain to wear a condom. You won’t like it if your cock goes numb instead.”

Daddy laughed. “I shouldn’t think so, no.” He rubbed my thigh and trailed his fingers up to the tenderest skin near my groin. He knew it tickled me. I held still, fighting my inclination to twist away. “I definitely don’t want him to become permanently numb there, of course. A pleasant sensation is an excellent motivator, as you said. I just want to be able to play with him longer. A few dozen strokes hitting the button and he’s crying out, complaining that he’s about to come. It’s ridiculous.”

“After only a few dozen strokes?” The doctor sounded horrified. “You should be able to strike his prostate a hundred times and not risk him coming.”

“Right?” Daddy agreed.

I felt like such a failure. But when Daddy was fucking me, I couldn’t think of anything else but how to make it better for him. I’d spread my thighs wider, arch my back more, cry out louder, lean into the pinch and the spank and the firm grip on my neck, give him all of me. When I could do that, though, and I could feel him lose his own control, forget to be so nice to me, forget to be gentle with me, when he gave up all pretense of being a civilized man and just _fucked_ me? The glorious feeling of surrender would sweep over me and I’d lose all control and just come and come.

“Hm. Can we raise the whole table up so I’m eye-level with his pussy? Is there some way to do that?”

“Of course,” Daddy said. He reached under the table. A moment later, the entire apparatus was lifted up three inches.

“Perfect. I’ll be able to see right inside.”

Schmidt lifted up a shiny metal speculum, turning it so it flashed in the lights. It had two large claws and a third protrusion. Schmidt caught my eye as he twisted a knob, closing the claws together. I couldn’t look away from his obvious excitement. He smiled as he lubed up the claws before ducking his head slightly and fitting the tips to my hole.

Daddy was leaning over my thigh to watch as Schmidt slowly inserted the speculum into my hole, seating it firmly between my ass-cheeks. It felt big and cold. Then Schmidt started expanding the speculum, the powerful hinge easily overcoming my muscles’ residual reluctance to give way and stretch.

I moaned and turned my head. I gripped the edges of the armrests. My chest heaved. My clitty got harder. It flopped off my thigh and smacked the doctor in the face.

“Oh, for…” Schmidt glared at me. “Let’s get this out of the way, shall we?”

I heard more metallic clinking. A drawer shut. Then Schmidt took a firm hold of my clit and slipped a metal ring around it like a collar. He pulled at the tip of my clitty, spreading the tiny mouth open. A moment later, a metal sound, hinged to the collar, slipped inside. It was maybe an inch or so long. There was a ring at the end of it which hung off the tip of my clitty. Schmidt hooked a carabiner to the ring then lifted a chain attached to the carabiner which he handed to Daddy.

“Will you, please, Mr. Barnes?”

“Absolutely,” Daddy said. He lifted the chain straight up into the air, then reached up and grabbed a hook hanging from the ceiling just out of sight. He pulled the hook down, lifted the chain higher and slipped a link onto the hook and let go. My clitty was now chained to the ceiling. The chain was taut, stretching my clit a little farther than was comfortable.

Daddy tapped the chain. “Should it be tighter? What do you think, Dr. Schmidt?”

“Hm? As long as it’s out of the way, thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

Daddy nodded. “Stevie,” he said in a very different tone. “You should apologize to the doctor for your transgression.”

I gulped. “Yes, Daddy. Please forgive me, Dr. Schmidt, sir, for getting in your way.”

“Is that how I taught you to apologize?”

“Please forgive me, Dr. Schmidt, sir, for touching you with my clitty without permission. I’ll accept whatever correction you would choose to provide.” I kept my eyes on Daddy. He looked a little suspicious, but mostly pleased.

“Yes, yes,” Schmidt said brusquely. “We’ll see about that later on. But for now?” He gave the speculum one more crank and it expanded again.

I grunted with the strain. I couldn’t move, didn’t dare move now. I reflexively tried to lift my hips, but Dr. Schmidt had his hand on the speculum, keeping my ass in place.

“Watch it, Stevie,” Daddy said. “Don’t interfere with the doctor again.”

“Yes, sir,” I said in a thin voice.

I felt something warm in my hole, but I didn’t dare look. My eyes closed and I had to force them open. I let them shut again when all I could see were the lights above me. There was more movement. I felt the doctor’s lab coat brush against my thighs. There was more pressure inside me and then –

“There it is,” Schmidt said.

There it was. Something was stimulating my love-button. Something was rubbing across it, back and forth, a steady pressure. Fresh tears spilled from my eyes. I wanted so much to be good. I wanted to thrust, to move, but I was tied to the ceiling. I couldn’t dare to react. All I could do was feel.

“Your boy is a bit of a slut,” Schmidt said, like he was discussing the weather.

“Yes,” Daddy agreed. “Much more so than I’d expected when I took him on.”

“Just a simple touch and he’s ready to go off.” Schmidt made a dismissive clucking noise. “Most boys, most _good_ boys, couldn’t come like this. Are you even trying to control yourself, Stevie?”

“Answer the doctor’s questions, Stevie.” Daddy sounded stern.

“Yes! Yes, Dr. Schmidt, sir, I’m trying but it’s so hard.”

“I should say so,” Schmidt said with a laugh. “Your little clitty is practically purple. I bet if we let it off the chain, it’d still be standing up that straight. What do you think, Stevie? Would your clit still be standing up straight?”

“I-I don’t know, sir,” I gasped.

“Don’t lie to me,” Schmidt said, giving the tender part of my thigh a sharp pinch. “Never lie to your doctor. How am I to help you if you lie to me?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Stevie,” Daddy said.

What could I say? “Yes! Yes, sir, Dr. Schmidt, sir,” I said. I felt my face get hot. “My slutty clitty would stand up straight. It wants to come. I want to come, Daddy, please.”

“Absolutely not!” Daddy sounded scandalized. “You’re in the middle of a medical examination. It’s highly inappropriate. You will not embarrass me, Stevie.”

I shook my head. “No, Daddy.” I adjusted my tight grip on the arms of the table.

Schmidt made that noise again. “Is he even trying to behave? Maybe I should increase the dose of Submisoral. I could inject it right into him. Another cc or so.”

I whimpered. “I can be good, Daddy. Please. No shots.”

“I could put it right into the meat of his ass,” Schmidt said, as if I hadn’t spoken. He cupped a hand around my buttock. “Wouldn’t take a minute to set up.”

“Hmm,” Daddy said. “Let’s see how the test goes. He seems resistant, though. I shouldn’t have to remind him to be honest.”

“Ask him another question.”

“All right.” Daddy moved to stand over my head. “Tell me something, Stevie, what do you want desperately to tell your friends about yourself that you’ll never tell them voluntarily?” He gazed meaningfully at me, a smile playing on his beautiful lips.

I knew what he wanted me to say. I’d never said it in front of anyone but him before. Could I say it now? With the doctor here? A _witness?_

“Come on. You can do it. Go on now, Stevie. Tell the good doctor your filthy, dirty fantasy.”

I couldn’t look away. His beautiful eyes, so dark with passion and domination, just bore into me. If I looked at him, I could do it. Maybe. I said, “I’m a naughty little slut who needs a good spanking…”

Daddy smiled and nodded his head. “Go on.”

“I’m a cock-hungry whore. I love it when my pussy gapes because it means my Daddy has used me hard. I want… I want to be…”

“Go on… You can say it.”

“I want to be their slut, too,” I said. I felt tears slipping from my eyes even as a weight lifted from my chest. “I want to crawl in front of them and lift my ass so they can see my eager hole. I want Tony to face-fuck me. I want Sam to shove his cock in my pussy while he whips my ass with a belt. I want Clint to spread me open and use my clitty for target practice. I want Natasha to string me up and sit on my face so all I can do is lick and suck her until she’s finally satisfied. I want Bruce to shove his fist in my pussy up to his elbow. I want to be made to worship Thor’s cock until he comes all over me.”

And then I heard myself putting into words something I’d been unable to articulate even in my own thoughts. “I want them to know I’m a filthy slut who’s really only good for one thing and I want them to look at you like you’re a god because you saw value in me and claimed me. You saw me for what I was – what I am – a good boy who deserves to be loved – and you took me for yourself and they’d be so in awe of you. Just like I have always been.”

Daddy’s eyes gleamed. He bent down to kiss my mouth. I felt wetness on my cheeks that wasn’t my own. “I love you so much, Steve,” he whispered. “So god-damned much.” Straightening up, he said, louder, “Good boy, Stevie. What do you think, Dr. Schmidt?”

“Seems honest enough,” Schmidt said. He sounded skeptical. “But if you decide he needs it, I have enough for a few more doses.”

“Understood.”

I trembled as Daddy moved away. The images wouldn’t stop. I kept imagining it, being made to service my friends, having them look at me like I was nothing but a sex toy for them to play with, to use up. Coming all over me. Staining me with their passion then turning to Bucky and thanking him for the use of his toy, praising him for my obedience, admiring him. I wanted to be a servant in Bucky’s temple where all our friends were faithful parishioners.

Maybe some day.

I had to get through this examination first. I had to prove I didn’t need ‘external controls,’ whatever those were. Daddy seemed to know.

Schmidt was putting something new inside me, but I couldn’t feel it. I was stretched so wide. What was he doing to me?

“There we go,” Schmidt said. “I have the electrode in place. Now we shall measure his control. Please unhook him, Mr. Barnes.”

Within seconds, Daddy had unhooked the chain connecting my clitty to the ceiling. He removed the carabiner next. My clitty did almost stand upright. I think the weight of the metal collar tipped it over, though. Schmidt swiftly removed the sound from my clitty, but left the collar on, the sound now hanging by a hinge.

“I shall stimulate the love-button and we shall see if he can control himself or not,” Schmidt said.

“Go ahead,” Daddy instructed. “Don’t come, Stevie. Control yourself.”

I immediately sensed a vibration on my love button. With the speculum stretching me open, it almost felt like I had a dildo inside me. At the least, I had something to clench down on while I tried to ignore the incredibly pleasurable vibrations surging through me. My clitty twitched, jumping into the air. Daddy and Schmidt both focused on it, watching it.

“Is it going to come, do you think?” Daddy asked. “Can you tell?”

“He’s a slutty boy,” Schmidt said. “He won’t be able not to.”

“How long will you let it go on?” Daddy asked. “When will you know if he has control?”

“Oh, several minutes more.”

Several minutes? I was clenching my stomach muscles, trying desperately to think of anything else – filling out reports, Latin declensions, listing all 2500 species of palm trees – anything to keep from coming. Coming was all I wanted to do, though. But maybe, if nothing else happened, maybe I could ride the waves, get beyond them somehow. Maybe I could finally learn control. If they didn’t do anything to increase the sensations. I realized I could pass this test.

That’s when they increased the difficulty of it.

“Does he respond better to verbal humiliation or praise?” Schmidt asked.

“He’s responsive to both, I’d say. Frankly, he’s eager for any bit of my attention.”

“Sounds draining.”

“It can be. But I did request an eager slut.”

“He certainly does respond positively to objects in his pussy,” Schmidt mused. “Have you considered adding a tail? Giving him something to wag?”

Daddy looked pensive. “I had thought of a bunny tail,” he said. “You know, for Easter. Have him hop around on the grass searching for hidden eggs.”

“You have a garden space here?”

“Yes, but not enough of one. I was thinking Central Park.” Daddy smiled. “Can you picture him? Pink bunny ears, a painted face, furry mittens on his hands, a little bow tie. Fuzzy tail. Furry anklets.”

“Anything else?”

Daddy’s grin turned wolfish. “Bunnies don’t wear clothes. A bow tie is all I’d consent to.”

“Ah. Lovely.”

“He’d be scrambling around on the grass, his little clitty dangling between his legs. He’d be so cute. I’d make him hop, hop, hop, with a basket in his mouth. He’d find an egg, then have to use his mouth to put the egg into the basket, then hop, hop, hop to the next one. His little clitty bouncing along.”

I could imagine it. I’d hopped like that for Daddy before, squatting and hopping until my thighs burned, feeling my clit bouncing inelegantly. He’d laughed and laughed at me. I hated it. It was so humiliating, moving like that. But it made Daddy laugh and so I kept doing it. But in public? Who am I kidding. Of course, I would.

“He looks beautiful in the sunshine,” Daddy said. “One day, I should invite you out to see him in it. Our back garden is very private. Quite secluded.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Schmidt said. “I would enjoy seeing your boy balancing on his toes, performing tricks for your amusement.”

“The first time I got him outside,” Daddy said, and I cringed because I knew what he was going to say, “he came within half a minute. He got hard and came just three steps out from the door. It was very disappointing.”

“Oh, I’m certain it was,” Schmidt said. “How long can he last outside now?”

“He’s greatly improved,” Daddy said. “At least an hour now.”

It wasn’t half a minute. It was at least five. Wasn’t it? I just couldn’t believe I was being allowed to go out of the house. Daddy had me on a leash so I wouldn’t get scared or try to run away. He led me out and as soon as I felt the grass under my knees, saw the sky above me and felt the outside, un-conditioned air all around me, I did come. Of course, Daddy made me lick it off the concrete while he switched my backside, punishment for my lack of control. I stayed hard, though, and later on, Daddy rewarded me by having me bend backwards towards the fence while he played with my tits until I came. Then he cuddled me and hand-fed me chocolate while we watched Disney movies.

“At the office visit,” Schmidt said, “you expressed interest in increasing the size of Stevie’s tits. Are you still interested? We could discuss that now while we wait for the results of this test.”

“Yes, all right.”

Schmidt stood up and moved to the other side of me, facing Daddy across my body. “There are a few methods,” Schmidt said. “The first is, obviously, a basic implant.” He grabbed hold of my tits, one in each hand, and cupped them. “The implant would slid under the fat and sit on the muscle.” He plumped my tits. “Your boy doesn’t have much fat, though,” he said. “So we’d have to stretch out his skin a lot to accommodate a good-sized tit. You’d want to make it worth your while.”

“Absolutely,” Daddy said. He held his hands a few inches above my chest. “I was thinking he’d look amazing if he were truly stacked, and if they jiggled constantly, so he was always aware of them.”

“We could take a skin graft from his ass,” Schmidt said.

Daddy chuckled. “So I’d be ogling his ass whether he was coming or going?”

Schmidt laughed, too. I thought about it. What would it really be like, having tits that large? Having them jiggle when I walked, the nipples getting hard as they brushed against my shirt. I wouldn’t be able to hide them. Would I look ridiculous? Or would I look sexy? I’d probably have to dress like a girl, just so I wouldn’t cause a stir. A sexy little dress that showed off my curves. One with a short skirt so that Daddy could just flip it up and fuck me whenever he needed to. He’d just slide into my pussy. He’d just bend me over, just push me over the couch or the stairs or a table, kick my legs apart and slide his cock right into me. He’d fuck me and fuck me and come and then walk away, leaving me standing there in my skirt with his come trickling down my thighs and my clit bulging in my panty.

Daddy pinched my nipples. “What other options do I really have?”

“There’s a hormone you could start injecting him with,” Schmidt said. “You inject his tits every morning, right into the nipple. It has the side benefit of increasing his natural milk production. Boys can produce milk, you know. Their glands are just dormant. This hormone starts them up. He’d swell to about a B cup at most, but you’d be able to suckle his teat. Or he could express it into a bottle.”

“So I could take his milk on trips, you mean?”

“Well, yes,” Schmidt said. “But I do have a patient who drinks a bottle of his own milk every day. It’s part of his littlespace and helps him fill his diaper. His caretaker despairs of his little boy ever being toilet trained again.” Then Schmidt leaned closer over my body to stage-whisper, “His first Daddy had him ‘fixed.’ A doctor in a different country did the surgery. I don’t recommend that and it did cause my patient some problems. I’m working with them both to ameliorate the situation.”

Daddy frowned. “The boy is permanently in a diaper?”

Schmidt nodded solemnly.

“I really don’t want that for Stevie.”

Schmidt shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He cast me a sly look. “At least, not all the time.” He winked.

I pictured myself sitting on the floor, swaddled in a diaper, wearing a frilly gown or one of those dresses with all the petticoats that stuck out straight like little girls wear, sucking my thumb and then crying because I’d peed my diaper and needed a change. Then Natasha, for some reason, dressed in a severe nurse’s uniform would be the one to lift my legs into the air and wipe me clean. I’d get hard and she’d manipulate me, stroke me until I came, a bored expression on her lovely face. Then she’d diaper me again, put me on the floor and I’d crawl to Daddy. Daddy, all dressed in pressed slacks with a white collared shirt and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Maybe he’d be wearing suspenders. Maybe he’d have a hat. Daddy would ask Natasha if I had been good all day. He’d hug me and kiss me, put me on his lap while he had grown-up discussions around me. He’d feed me dinner, give me a bath, read me a story, put me to bed. I’d ask for a special cuddle and he’d demur. I’d beg, promise to be good, and he’d agree ‘but just this once.’ Then he’d reach into my pajamas and fondle me until I came gasping on his shoulder. Then he’d complain about his cock getting hard, and what was he to do? I’d offer to help, because I was going to grow up to be a helper, and he agreed to let me try. I’d try sucking it first, like my thumb. He’d open up his pants and let me. He’d say it was good, but not good enough. I’d turn over and pull down my pajama pants. He’d say ‘just this once’ and then he’d put himself in me. Daddy would fuck into me, just for himself, slapping and slamming his hips into my ass, gripping my sides, leaving marks until he’d come inside me. Then he’d rebutton his trousers and pull up my pajamas. He’d warn me not to interfere with myself and I’d promise to be good. He’d tuck me in, turn out the light and I’d – I’d –

I was humping the air, groaning again, calling out, “Daddy, Daddy” and spurting onto my stomach, my thighs, the floor. Daddy and Schmidt had been pinching and rolling my nipples, squeezing and slapping my tits, talking about their size and discussing the meat on my body – my tits, my ass – and it was all so much. I couldn’t contain it, I couldn’t control it.

I had failed.

“Hmm,” Schmidt said. They lifted their hands off my body, leaving me sensitized and cool. Schmidt checked the watch on his wrist. “That wasn’t quite seven minutes,” he said. “Your boy can’t control himself, can he.” It wasn’t a question. It was a sad observation.

“I don’t think so, no,” Daddy said. “It was just a simple stimulation of his love-button, wasn’t it?”

“That’s all it was,” Schmidt agreed. “A very low voltage at that. Barely noticeable.” He shook his head. “I suspect he’s been stimulated too many times.” He moved back between my legs. A moment later, the electrode inside me was pulled off and he began closing the speculum. Once he withdrew it, I felt empty, almost dissatisfied, even though I had come. My eyes were open, I could see everything, but at the same time I was blind to it. I couldn’t recognize anything as being important. There was Daddy, moving away, being drawn to stand behind the doctor and look at my spread legs.

“He’s gaping,” Daddy said. “Do you think that’s bad?”

“Some prefer a boy who is constantly gaped,” Schimdt replied. “It means the boy is well-used and amenable to being fucked. Some prefer to open up their boy each time. Personal preference.”

“Does it contribute to his inability to control himself?”

Schmidt paused in thought. “It may. It may be drawing his attention to his hole, which makes him think about being fucked.”

“His thoughts should be on me,” Daddy said.

They are, I wanted to say. I only think of you, Daddy.

Schmidt stood up and moved a few steps away with Daddy, just to the edge of the darkness. I could see the glow from Schmidt’s lab coat, a glint in Daddy’s eye. “You were concerned about your boy’s button and clitty,” he said. “I’ve examined both. The clit-hole is wide, which means he’s allowed a great deal of fluid to release. He released during the button test. Clearly, your boy lacks any control over his clitty. His button is easily over-stimulated, and the simple test I gave him made him gape. Even with a large dose of Submisoral to make him obedient, he was unable to comply. Medically speaking, he’s a naughty boy with an eager pussy and no self-control. It’s the perfect storm of sluttishness.”

“I was afraid of that. What do you suggest? What’s his prognosis?”

Schmidt took a deep breath. “You have several options. You could provide him with further training. There are specialists I can put you in contact with. They can provide you with guidance or, for a small fee, may even be willing to come here to train the boy. One or two provide alternate arrangements only.”

“Like what?”

“Think of it like camp. Or a retreat. Your boy would travel to the trainer’s property. One trainer has a lovely estate in Vermont that offers long weekends of intensive therapy. Another runs a retreat in Hawaii. That one offers programs typically taking at least two weeks of intensive training. When your boy comes back, he’s exactly the way you want him. They’re also usually extremely grateful to be returned to their caretakers.”

“I should send Stevie for two weeks to Hawaii by himself?” Daddy laughed.

“Oh, no,” Schmidt said, chuckling along. “There’s an all-inclusive resort hotel for you. Trained servants, private cabins on the beach. It’s a small island, privately owned. But there’s all sorts of excursions on offer. While your boy is learning the necessary skills to please you better, you can be off enjoying all the islands have to offer. _Everything_ they have to offer.”

“That’s a tempting idea for a vacation. For me, anyway.”

“So that’s one option. The second is a device. There are clitty collars with sounds, like I put on your boy tonight. They prevent release. The aforementioned numbing gel, too, is a workable option. Both options are viable, but impermanent. One shouldn’t keep a sound in the clitty 24/7, and numbing gel will wear off in time. But these are the more economical options.”

“What’s less economical?”

“I call it the ‘nuclear option.’”

“And that is…?”

“Surgery. But that’s only for extreme cases.”

“I really don’t think we’re there yet.”

“I agree.”

“Thank you, Dr. Schmidt. I appreciate you making this house call for me.”

“It was my pleasure. It’ll take me just a moment to pack up my things and then we can discuss my fee.”

I had calmed down a lot, listening to them talk and discuss my options. I wondered what Daddy would choose for me. Would he send me away to live with a stranger? Could I even obey a stranger? Maybe if it was what Daddy wanted. Yes. If it was what Daddy wanted, I could do it.

If it was in Hawaii, Daddy would have such fun. He’d been in Hawaii once, but it wasn’t for very long and it wasn’t for pleasure. This would be a vacation for him. Except I wouldn’t be the one seeing to his sexual needs. But his needs would be seen to. Someone else would handle them. Again, if it was what Daddy wanted, then I could be on board with that, too.

I’d be jealous as fucking hell, but I could get over it. It could be spanked out of me.

I listened as Schmidt put his things away and closed up his case. He pushed it out of the lighted area and then stepped over to stare down at my face, at my body. “It’s good to see you again, Stevie,” he said. “Overall, you’re a healthy boy and it’s a pleasure to examine you. We must make sure to keep you in your best condition, though, don’t we.” He shook his head. “You want to be perfect, don’t you?”

I nodded. “I do,” I whispered. “I want to be perfect for my Daddy.”

“I’m going to exact my fee now, Stevie. Are you ready for that?”

I nodded harder. “Of course. What – what fee? What do I do…?” I glanced around, but all I saw was Schmidt. Daddy was beyond the circle of light. He was in the darkness now.

Schmidt reached under the table and soon I was back to sitting upright, like I was when I climbed on. “Come now, Stevie,” Schmidt said, reaching his hand out to me. “Get off the table now. Down to your knees. Be a good boy.”

I held his hand. It helped me balance as I stood up, took a step, then sank to my knees. I looked up at Schmidt, my back straight, chest out, hands at my sides. Schmidt looked down at me, a calculating look on his backlit face. Around us, the lights dimmed to a dark blue, like the deep ocean.

“Your daddy gave you to me in an effort to settle my fee,” Schmidt said. “He thinks you’re going to satisfy me more than money. He thinks the use of your body is going to be of more worth to me than any financial remittance he could make. Your daddy’s an exceedingly wealthy man, so my fee is nothing to him. I’m not wealthy. I could really use the cash. But I’m getting you instead. Do you understand what I’m saying, Stevie?”

I gulped. “I need to be better than money?”

Schmidt leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You need to be better than all the money.”

My eyes closed. I felt a shudder run through me. “Yes, sir,” I said.

“So first you’re going to choke on my dick and then you’re going to bounce on it,” Schmidt said. “And when I come, I’m going to come all over your pretty face and you’re going to be so grateful for it, you’re going to thank me. You will not be permitted to come. I’m not interested in that. This is payment for me, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now open your mouth and shut the fuck up.”

I reflexively closed my eyes and opened my mouth wide, letting my tongue hang out over my bottom lip. I heard the zing of a zipper and the rustle of cloth. I smelled an unfamiliar musk and then his dick was in my mouth. A half-second later I was sucking on it like Bucky trained me to – with my whole heart and my entire focus. I bobbed my head, turned and twisted it and took him in as far as I could. The tip of his dick slammed into the back of my throat. I pushed to take him further.

Drool slid down my chin, over his dick, down his balls. I balanced on my knees, not daring to touch him with my hands. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was staring down at me, his mouth open, his hands on his hips holding back his shirt and his lab coat.

“Suck me harder, damn it,” he growled at me. “Choke on it, little boy.”

I redoubled my efforts. His hand clamped down tight on the top of my head. I felt his fingers in my hair, tugging me back and forth just ahead of the rhythm I had set for myself. It distracted me and I faltered, my lips slipping off his tip. I dove for it again, but not before I heard his muttered disappointment.

“You little bitch,” he said. “Fucking take it.”

He put both hands now on the back of my head, interlacing his fingers. He pulled me forward and thrust his hips at me, fucking into my throat. I could only hold my mouth open and try to keep soft for him. I licked as I could, sucked, slurped, drooled over him. I heard myself whimpering. Tears streaked down my cheeks at my rough treatment. I had virtually no gag reflex, but it still hurt to take his dick that brutally.

One hand gripped my throat now while the other held my head in place. He massaged my throat and I swallowed around his head. I heard Schmidt groan with relief.

“Fucking take it,” he said. “Take it.”

Schmidt sagged a little, then pulled away. I almost fell into him but regained my balance on my knees. Was it over? Had he come? I looked at his dick, shiny and wet, and maybe he had? Schmidt pulled over an armless wooden chair. He sat down on it, his dick angling up from his trousers.

“Come on, then,” he said, gesturing at himself. “You know you want this in your little pussy. Your pussy’s been gaping for it, gagging for it. Your pussy wants what your throat just got. Come on and get it.”

I stood up and stumbled toward him. I tried to balance on the back of the chair, but it was awkward. I risked clutching his shoulder. He didn’t seem to object. I straddled his lap and lowered myself into a squat. His dick touched my gaping hole, stuck to my rim, then slipped away. I tried a second time. Schmidt just stared into my face, smirking in an unattractive way.

“What’s the matter, little pussy-boy,” he said. “Can’t figure out where the dick goes?”

“Uh, uh,” I grunted, trying a third time. “Please help me,” I said. It was something I could say to Daddy when I was having trouble. He’d always help me, even if I was struggling with a punishment. Schmidt, however…

“Grab my dick, you stupid whore,” he said, “get me hard and sit on my dick. It’s not rocket science.”

Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. I reached between my legs and found his dick. I stroked it quickly and felt it firm up in my grip. As I positioned it, and sank down, a reflection of light caught my eye in the darkness. I flashed a quick smile over Schmidt’s shoulder, then dropped my weight onto his lap, shoving his dick inside my gaped hole.

I tightened my hole around him, stroking him as I lightly bounced in his lap. I held onto his shoulders and risked a larger bounce. I let my head fall back, exposing my throat to Schmidt. He took full advantage and latched his teeth onto my neck. I cried out, shocked and surprised. I gripped his shoulders and tried to bounce again.

Schmidt let go of my neck. His hands cupped my ass, shaking and spreading them, clutching them in his grip. He slid his hands around to my abdomen and then up, cupping my tits. He plumped them, squeezing them tight. He leaned forward and latched onto my nipple. He sucked as I bounced. He wrapped his arms around me, slid his fingers down my crack, down to the hole, sliding along where his dick was inside me.

I felt a sharp, delicious pain in my tit. I looked down and saw Schmidt had taken hold of my nipple with his teeth and was pulling it away from my body. The sensation made me squirm in his lap. He let go only to do the same with the other one. He slapped my ass cheek. He stroked along my abdomen and thigh.

“Come on, fuck yourself on me,” Schmidt said, sucking bruises onto my biceps, my tits. “Bounce that tight fucking ass.”

I cried out. I was panting now, perspiring anew from all the exertion. My thighs were straining, but I kept on. My hole felt much too much pleasure to stop. I needed this fucking now. I needed the slide, the penetration, the pain of his mouth on mine. I needed it to hurt me so it would feel good to him.

My hard clitty was almost an afterthought. It bumped up against Schmidt’s abdomen, stuck into his rucked-up clothes. The tip was becoming almost sore as it scratched against the fabric of his shirt.

“Such a tight ass,” Schmidt kept saying. “I’d like to wreck it one day. Put a camera up there on the end of a dildo and fuck you with it. Watch you struggle and cry as you try not to come watching yourself on the monitor.”

I could well imagine it. I tightened harder around his dick.

“I’d demonstrate on you for the medical students,” he said. “Show each of them how to do a complete exam of a pussy-boy like you. Make you give the lecture. ‘This is how you handle a little boy’s clitty,’ you’d say. ‘No, no, miss, you need to put your whole hand up there. Go ahead. You must.’”

“Oh, god,” I gasped. I could imagine it all too well. Spreading myself open on the exam table. Encouraging the shy med students – each of them in a lab coat holding a tablet – to be rough with me. Telling them how to pull open my clitty. How to open up my pussy. Begging them to examine my tits. Test the nipples. Rate my flexibility. Force me to bend over and pull my ass open.

Schmidt’s hands clamped on my hips, stilling me. “Work my dick,” he said, staring at my face. I looked between his eyes, to his forehead, over his shoulder. “Work my dick with your hole,” he said.

I squeezed and flexed, grunting with the strain of it. I wasn’t allowed to come. This wasn’t about me.

“I don’t feel you trying,” Schmidt said. “Come on, boy, can’t you do any better? Don’t you want to pay your Daddy’s debt?”

“…yes…”

“Beg me to come.”

“Please, please, oh please, sir, please come!”

“Beg more,” Schmidt said. He dug his fingers into my ass. I felt the scratch of his short nails. He put his mouth on my tit and bit down.

“Please, sir,” I begged, louder. “Please come in my slutty hole! Please fuck my slutty boy-pussy! Please fill me with your come! Shoot it into my pussy! I want it to run out of my hole down my legs! I want it to coat my insides!” I gripped his shoulders. I twisted my hips and tried to milk his dick like he told me to.

“Say it again,” Schmidt said, his breath starting to hitch. “You have a slutty hole.”

“I have a slutty hole,” I repeated. “A slutty boy-pussy. Fuck my slutty pussy, please, sir! I need it!” I lifted up and slammed my hips back down on his lap, shoving his dick inside me over and over again. “Fuck my slutty hole!” I cried out.

Schmidt bit down on my tit, dug his fingers into my ass and held me there. Then he let go with a groan and pushed at my chest, forcing me off him and away. I slid onto the floor, my legs splayed, my chest heaving. Schmidt leaned over me and grabbed the back of my head with one hand. He held me by my hair while he stripped his dick, aiming it at my face. In moments, he was spurting his come onto my forehead, my eyes, nose, mouth. When he was done, he rubbed his fingers over my skin and then shoved them past my lips. I licked and sucked obediently, cleaning the salty liquid off his knuckles. Then he let go and I slumped backward onto the floor.

I lay there, trying to catch my breath while Schmidt stood and readjusted his pants. He knocked the chair away with his foot and left the circle of light. I heard his footsteps and the creak of his medical case. I was dimly aware of voices, a hushed conversation, and then the sound of the elevator door.

I started to close my legs. I wanted to curl onto my side, get off the concrete floor, warm myself. Suddenly, Daddy was there, dragging a warm, soft towel over my body.

“Here we go, baby boy,” Daddy cooed to me. “Up we go. Easy does it. Take your time but let’s stand up, okay, Stevie?” He put his arm around my shoulder, helping me to my feet.

“Daddy…?” I asked. “Did I do good? Was I all right? Did I do okay?”

“You were so good,” Daddy said. “You were the best. You did exactly what the doctor asked. He said you were exemplary.”

“He did?” Daddy was leading me into the darkness. I had only his arms to guide me. I trusted him and stepped with certainty across the floor. I felt carpet beneath my feet now. “He really said that?”

“He was really impressed,” Daddy said. “He likes your slutty hole.” I think Daddy was grinning at me. I think I heard it in his voice. Daddy’s hand slid down between my cheeks. Two fingers slipped into my hole. I gasped. “I love your slutty hole, Stevie.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I said. My cheeks were cold, I think, from tears? When did I cry?

My eyes adjusted as we approached the bathroom, already glowing with a dim blue light. I stepped into the shower and Daddy turned on the water. Gentle pulses of warmth shot onto my chest. I groaned. “Feels good,” I said. I leaned into the warm spray.

“Rinse off, Stevie,” Daddy said. “I’m right here with you.”

“I want out,” I said after a moment. “I want Daddy.”

“Turn around twice and then I’ll shut off the water.”

I did as he instructed, knowing it was for my benefit. The water shut off and Daddy was there, wrapping me in a larger, fluffier, warmer towel. I tucked my head onto Daddy’s shoulder. “Tell me again,” I begged.

“You were perfect,” Daddy said. “So good.” He knelt in front of me to rub a third towel over my legs. I felt myself tuning out all visual input. It didn’t matter what I was looking at. Daddy was there. Daddy was taking care of me.

I felt a comb in my hair. I took a deep breath and stretched my neck and shoulders.

“Jeez,” Daddy muttered, wiping the towels over my tits. “He really chewed on you, didn’t he.”

I shrugged. “I’ll heal.”

“Still.”

Daddy let the towels drop to the heated tile floor. He guided my arms into my favorite fluffy robe, the huge one that drowns me in softness. “Come on now, Stevie,” he said. “Let’s go lie down now.”

I followed him to the large bed in the corner of the dungeon. He patted my ass as I climbed up onto it and fell into the mountain of pillows piled there. Daddy followed after me, cradling me in his arms.

“Shhh, angel,” he said. “Take some water for me, okay?” He handed me an open bottle of water and helped guide it to my lips. I only meant to take a sip, but when he took it back from me, there was maybe a sip left. “That’s my boy,” he said. “Now some chocolate.”

I heard the bottle land somewhere on the floor, too intent on the promise of a Hershey’s to care. The chocolate squares melted on my tongue and I groaned happily.

“When do you get chocolate, Stevie?”

“When I’ve been a good boy,” I said with a smile.

“That’s right.” Daddy cuddled me in the pillows. “Put your head down and rest for me.”

I closed my eyes. Daddy was doing something with one of the remote controls. A moment later, soft spa-like music started to play, further relaxing me. Daddy kissed my forehead as I lay quietly.

“I love you so much, Steve,” he said. “So goddamned much.”

I smiled. “I love you too, Bucky.”


	2. The Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Bucky and Dave discuss the scene, what worked and what didn't, what was real and what wasn't, and discuss the possibility of future playdates together.

In the morning, Bucky decided to make blueberry pancakes. He was halfway through the batter, had the compote bubbling quietly, the maple butter warming in its crock, bacon in the oven, when Dave showed up at the counter.

“Good morning, Dr. Dave,” he said with a cheerful grin. “Coffee?” he gestured to the Keurig in the corner.

“Thanks,” Dave said. “I will.” He busied himself with the machine and as the water sputtered and spit, he asked, “Everything go okay after I left?”

Bucky frowned. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Then why the frown?”

Startled, Bucky glanced at him. “Nothing, sorry. I just, uh… Didn’t think you cared how other people felt? After? Or before, I guess. Did I misunderstand?”

Dave sputtered a laugh. “What? I’m not a sociopath, Bucky! Just aromantic.”

Bucky turned back to the pancakes, covering his awkwardness with food prep. “I guess I don’t really know what that means, then. I thought it meant you didn’t care about people’s feelings.”

“Yeah. Uh. No.” The Keurig was finished, so Dave withdrew the mug and started spooning in sugar. “I care about people. I just don’t form love connections with them as individuals. I’m fine without a single, special romantic partner. I don’t need what you and Steve obviously have.” He shrugged and taste-tested his coffee. “For me, that’s aromantic. I have friends. Good friends, even. Friends I could marry, I guess, if I had to, but I don’t _want_ to. I’m also sort of part of a poly group, I think.”

“Uh, shouldn’t you know?” Bucky flipped his pancakes, then slid them onto the serving plate. He poured the next four pancakes onto the griddle and dropped in blueberries.

“Probably?” Dave laughed. “They’re aware I’m completely not jealous. I think it makes one of the women upset, though.” He waved a hand. “But that’s personal gossip. Change the subject. Where’s Steve?”

“Actually, he should be back right about…”

The front door opened and shut. They heard the squeak of running shoes on the polished wood floors as a sweaty Steve Rogers moved confidently into the kitchen. “It smells amazing in here, Buck,” he said, smacking a kiss on his husband’s cheek. “Morning, Dave! Sleep okay? Let us know if that mattress is still holding up. I mean, we don’t have overnight guests all that frequently, but we never sleep in there, either, so I always ask.”

“It was fine,” Dave replied. “Really comfortable, actually. Thanks again for letting me stay the night.”

Steve grinned like sunshine. “It was no problem at all. We clearly have the room. Blueberry pancakes are good, right? Have a seat. This looks like the last batch.”

“Get the bacon, huh, Steve?” Bucky asked.

Dave sat down at the kitchen counter while Steve got the bacon out of the oven and laid it onto a rack to cool. A moment later, Steve had placed a plate and a complete set up in front of him. “Have at it,” he said, then proceeded to set up places for himself and Bucky as well.

The food was delicious and it didn’t take them long to eat it all. Dave had to get home before he headed off to his shift at the local hospital ER, so he washed up and then met them in the front room to say goodbye.

“We should have a debrief, all three of us, I mean,” Dave began. “For me, last night was good. I sense I got a little off-script with you, Steve, at the end there.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Steve looked to Bucky. “It’s fine. Daddy checked in with me, but I don’t remember why…?”

Bucky smiled reassuringly at Steve. He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and said to Dave, “You called him ‘stupid.’ That’s a no-go word for us.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Dave said, genuinely horrified. “I really am. It slipped out. It will not happen again. If you permit me to play with you again, that is, and I completely understand if you don’t want to.”

“Dave, it’s fine, truly,” Steve said. “He’s right. We don’t like the word ‘stupid,’ for a lot of reasons we don’t need to go into, but you didn’t know, so you didn’t violate any agreement.” He smiled, a little shy. “I would like to play with you again, if you wanted.”

“It would be my honor,” Dave replied. “You have an amazing body. The things I’d like to do to it…” He shook his head and grinned. “If you come up with another scenario you think I’d be a good fit for, I’d be certain to clear my schedule. You two are challenging. In a fun way.”

Bucky grinned delightedly. “I think we can come up with something. Hey, I don’t suppose that rodeo thing is real?”

Dave laughed. “It’s so real,” he said, “but it’s so not for you. I mean, go sit in the audience, sure. But those people are hardcore. I’m not certain it’s all legal, but everyone swears they’re consenting.” He winked at Bucky. “Hawaii’s real, too. Just so you know.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, then asked, shyly, “And the Submisoral? What was that?”

Dave shook his head. “Sleight of hand, mostly,” he admitted. “I used a repurposed veterinarian’s needle and syringe to put lube into you.”

Steve blinked at him. “It’s a lube-shooter?”

Dave shrugged. “Basically, yeah. But it looks really scary, right?”

Steve nodded, then cocked his head to one side. “But you were going to inject me with it? With lube?”

“Oh! Oh, no,” Dave said, turning a little pink. The blush rendered the confident, good-looking man a little more human. “If it came to it, I was just going to inject a vitamin shot. Some B12. I absolutely do not carry around any actual pharmaceuticals. But…”

“It sounds scary,” Steve said, catching on. “Well, I fell for it.”

Bucky rubbed his hand across Steve’s shoulders. “Was that too much? You know I wouldn’t have let him.”

“I know,” Steve said softly. “That was just enough, I think.” He glanced at Dave. “I was sick a lot as a child. I got a lot of shots. I’m kind of skittish of them now.”

“I get that,” Dave said. “I’ll put that in my notes to leave that out.”

“No, don’t do that.” Steve took a deep breath. “If I know intellectually it’s just vitamins,” here he glanced at Bucky, “then I think I can handle thinking it’s something else. As long as it’s not framed as punishment.”

“I can work with that,” Dave said. “Easily accomplished. Any other notes for me?”

Steve shook his head. Bucky hesitated, then said, “Actually, I had an observation. ‘Dr. Schmidt’ didn’t fuck Stevie the way I expected. He really got into it. I thought he’d be more detached…?”

Dave’s slight pink flush deepened and he shifted in his seat. “Oh, uh… yeah. Detachment was more difficult to accomplish than I thought it would be.” He glanced at Steve through his lashes. “I did say that Steve’s got an incredible body, right? I mentioned that part already?”

Bucky choked on a laugh. “You’re saying Steve was so sexy you forgot yourself?”

“Kind of?”

Steve blushed and looked down at his feet. “Well, thank you. That’s a very nice thing to hear.” He coughed, then asked, “Any notes for me?”

“Nothing I can think of,” Dave said. “Honestly, Steve, you were a treat. I meant it when I said I’d clear my schedule for whatever you wanted. And you never have to tell me who this ‘Dr. Schmidt’ is meant to be a stand-in for, but I can guess he was an asshole.”

Steve and Bucky laughed uncomfortably. “Yeah,” Bucky said, “he really was. It’s a long story. Suffice to say he made Steve’s life a living hell for a long time.”

Dave took that in for a moment, then shrugged. “One day, maybe you’ll tell me. Maybe not. I don’t need to know everything just to have sexy-fun-time.”

They said their goodbyes, watching as Dave stepped out to the sidewalk to catch his Uber. Once he was gone, Bucky and Steve embraced. “That really was fun,” Steve said. He pulled back a bit and asked, “You don’t think I need special training, though, do you?”

In response, Bucky grabbed at Steve’s cock and grinned. “Depends on how well you clean up the playroom, I guess.”

“You know, I don’t remember you coming last night,” Steve said carefully, allowing Bucky to fondle his cock through his jogging pants.

“Maybe I’m saving up,” Bucky replied. “Maybe you should set up my throne in the playroom. And keep the ceiling chains out. I’m feeling like watching you dance on my whip. Then you can suck on my cock and maybe bounce on it while I come half a dozen times. Thoughts?”

Steve groaned. “You have the best ideas, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> In this fake medical exam, the doctor (who is actually a real doctor), uses a speculum on Steve as well as unspecified other device to widen his asshole. The doctor also uses a veterinarian-grade syringe to pretend to inject Steve with a made-up drug (it's actually a modified lube-shooter) (this gets explained in chapter 2). 
> 
> As in the first story, there is a great deal of discussion of body modification.
> 
> Additional tag suggestions welcomed. If you found something you think I should have warned or tagged for, PLEASE let me know. I'd rather people can find the stuff they want than waste time on the stuff that bothers them.


End file.
